The Mistcloak Journals: Adventures in Skyrim
by SilverWing the Warrior
Summary: A lone warrior/scholar of the Mistcloaks, a secret order dedicated to hunting the undead, journeys to Skyrim in order to uncover an ancient truth. Once there, the civil war among the Nords complicates her quest, and when dragons start showing up out of nowhere bent on destroying the world, she finds she may be the only one with the power to stop them...
1. First Entry

(The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim and all characters and quests within that game belong to Bethesda Softworks. The Mistcloak Order is headcanon I invented in order to explain the existence of my "Mistcloak" custom class in TES IV: Oblivion.)

–

I begin this journal so that, if I fail on this quest, some other Mistcloak might find it and any knowledge that I gain on this journey will not be lost with me. It is of utmost importance that no-one but a Mistcloak ever view my writings, for if the existence of the Mistcloak Order were to be made known, every one of us would be hunted down and killed. I will keep this journal close to me, in a small, inconspicuous pouch hidden under my clothing. If by ill-fortune I am discovered and searched, this journal is likely to remain secret.

Unlike most of my elven brethren, and especially unlike the Altmer, the Mistcloaks do not believe it is entirely impossible for Tiber Septim, the ancient Emperor of men who fought to unite Tamriel under his rule, to have ascended to divinity. The First Principle of the Mistcloaks states clearly that the souls of all the highest dwellers of Nirn - mer, men, and beast-folk alike - are equal under the Aedra. Neither the First Principle nor the ancient legends explain how this came to pass, but it cannot be denied. The life force of lesser beings can be held within an untainted Soul Gem, while the spirits of mer, men and beast-folk cannot. The teachings of the first Mistcloak philosophers state clearly that this proof irrefutably validates the First Principle. Therefore, it is conceivably possible (although highly unlikely) that any individual among such beings could potentially achieve godhood. If men worship one of their own as a god, that would be a grave heresy. However, if the Thalmor deny the divinity of a true god, such a heresy would be just as dire. For this reason I left my home in Valenwood and traveled across Cyrodiil in the guise of a wandering refugee: so that I could enter Skyrim, where Tiber Septim spent his earliest years. Perhaps there I shall uncover some small gleam of truth.

At the moment, I'm writing this as I huddle in a street corner in the town of Bruma, close to Skyrim's border. The first thing I've learned about this land is that the beggar's rags I wear are not enough to keep out the cold. I'm used to the warm summers of my forest homeland, not these snow-clad mountains. Earlier today, as I made my way along the road to Bruma, I noticed the ruins of the old Daedric siege device lying outside the city walls like the bones of some long-dead beast. The evergreen forest had almost claimed the area, but I could still see it sprawled among the trees, never to rise again and threaten Tamriel. That foul device was destroyed in the last days of the Third Empire of men, and I seek information on the beginning of the same Empire. I shall take it as an omen, though whether for good or for ill I cannot say. At first light tomorrow I shall leave Bruma and attempt to make my way across Skyrim's borders.


	2. Second Entry

(The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim and all characters and quests within that game belong to Bethesda Softworks. The Mistcloak Order is headcanon I invented in order to explain the existence of my "Mistcloak" custom class in TES IV: Oblivion.)

–

Crossing into Skyrim was far more perilous than I had hoped it would be. I accidentally walked into an ambush - an Imperial trap set for some sort of rebels calling themselves Stormcloaks. The sole weapon I had brought with me for my disguise as a begging refugee was a dagger - the only bandits who were desperate enough to attack someone as poor-looking as I were also cowardly enough to flee at the first sign of a fight. I was knocked unconscious in the skirmish, and when I came to, my dagger and almost everything else I carried had been taken from me, and my wrists had been bound. The Imperial soldiers brought me to a village called Helgen, along with these Stormcloaks and their leader, and a luckless horse thief who had also been caught in the ambush.

My first impression of Skyrim was a cold one, and I mean that more than literally. The Imperial soldiers were planning to execute me, and the horse thief they had caught as well, even though we were not among the rebels. Their archers shot the thief down when he tried to run. One of the soldiers, a man by the name of Hadvar, at least gave me a few compassionate words.

I thought I was done, and that my mission would end in failure, but then a great black dragon swooped down out of nowhere and attacked the town! I fled in the chaos, and Hadvar and I made our way out of Helgen through a series of caves under the keep. I could have escaped with the remaining Stormcloaks, but after seeing the state Skyrim is in, I doubt I could trust very many of the inhabitants, even those who were once held in bondage with me. I don't trust the Empire either, especially after they tried to kill me, but as an individual, Hadvar seems like a decent sort. After we got out of Helgen, he and I made our way to his uncle's home in the village of Riverwood. The family has been kind enough to put me up for the night. They mentioned a Jarl Balgruuf of Whiterun and said he must be warned about the dragon attack. While I agree that this is an important task, some nearby ruins that the locals call Bleak Falls Barrow have piqued my curiosity. An ancient tomb like that must surely contain some record of ages past, and if I'm fortunate, I might be able to find something there that would help me on my quest. Before I leave for Whiterun, I'll ask the villagers of Riverwood for more information about Bleak Falls Barrow.


	3. Third Entry

(The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim and all characters and quests within that game belong to Bethesda Softworks. The Mistcloak Order is headcanon I invented in order to explain the existence of my "Mistcloak" custom class in TES IV: Oblivion.)

–

I went to ask around Riverwood about Bleak Falls Barrow. The local store had news indeed - a treasure of theirs called the Golden Claw had been stolen by a gang of robbers who made their hideout in Bleak Falls Barrow, and they were offering a reward for its safe return. I was planning on investigating the place anyway, so I went to Bleak Falls Barrow to find out if the old ruin held any secrets I could use and to fetch the Golden Claw.

Though the upper levels of the crypt had been claimed by the bandits, the lower levels were still populated with undead abominations. I took no pleasure in killing the thieves, but it was satisfying to put the dead back to their rightful rest. The Mistcloak Code states clearly that necromancy and the undead are an offense against the natural laws of both the physical and spiritual realms, and therefore undead creatures must be slain so that their spirits may be set free.

Once I had the Golden Claw, the journal of one of the thieves stated that the Claw was in fact the key to a door leading to the barrow's inner sanctum. Within the inner sanctum, I found a wall inscribed with runic writing. As I approached the wall, one of the words began to glow with a strange blue light. I could not understand the language, yet I felt strangely as if that glowing word held some meaning to me somehow.

I did not have much time to think about this matter, for the runes stopped glowing and the lord of the undead abominations rose from his crypt and attacked me. It was no easy fight, for his blade was enchanted with the power of frost, and he spoke some form of magical incantation that hit me like a weapon itself. However, once I had slain him, I found a stone tablet on his corpse, bearing an inscription of some kind. It appears to be a map, although exactly where in Tamriel it corresponds to I have no idea. Interpreting this map is work for a greater scholar than I, and I doubt I shall find anyone with the skill to read it in Riverwood.


	4. Fourth Entry

(The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim and all characters and quests within that game belong to Bethesda Softworks. The Mistcloak Order is headcanon I invented in order to explain the existence of my "Mistcloak" custom class in TES IV: Oblivion.)

–

Traveling to Whiterun and notifying Jarl Balgruuf about the dragon attack was simple enough. One guard tried to stop me from getting into the city, but I convinced him that my news was urgent enough to warrant the Jarl's attention. On my way to the Jarl's court at Dragonsreach, I ran into some Redguard warriors looking for a woman in Whiterun, except the guards would not allow them into the city, so they offered me some coin if I happen to find her and tell them of her whereabouts. Then there was a local warrior of Whiterun whose ancestral sword had been stolen by bandits hiding out in some distant cave or ruin, and his wife didn't want him running off into danger. Having no such attachments myself as of yet, I offered to go retrieve the sword for him. Also, I met a local preacher who was shouting to the populace about Talos. On the chance that he might have information pertaining to my mission, I asked him a few questions, but he had nothing to tell me about Talos except what any man devout to their Nine would say.

Jarl Balgruuf directed me to his court mage, who wanted me to go find an ancient stone tablet for him. As luck would have it, this was the very same tablet I had picked up in Bleak Falls Barrow. I had been wondering where I could find someone with the skill to decipher it, so I handed it over. The mage, Farengar Secret-Fire by name, seemed quite surprised that I had managed to find the tablet.

Then came the difficult part. A guard came rushing in with the news that a dragon was attacking a watchtower just southwest of Whiterun. The Jarl's housecarl immediately gathered a force to repel the attack, and I joined them. There was no sign of the dragon when we first reached the watchtower, but it was not long before the beast returned. I tipped one of my arrows with venom from giant spiders I had slain earlier in my travels and shot the dragon as he swooped over me in the air. Between my arrows and the blades of Whiterun's soldiers, we soon slew the dragon.

Then a strange thing happened - the dragon's flesh seemed to turn to light and the light flowed into me, leaving only the dragon's bones strewn along the ground. The soldiers of Whiterun were amazed at this, and they called me 'Dragonborn.' They spoke of old legends, and they claimed that Talos was also Dragonborn. I tried to think that over as I made my way back to Whiterun, but I was interrupted by clouds gathering in the sky and voices speaking from the heavens. I hurried back to the Jarl to find out if anyone else had heard the voices or if by some ill-fortune I had been touched by Sheogorath. Jarl Balgruuf told me that the voices were a summons for me from a group of sages known as the Greybeards. Judging by the Jarl's reaction, a summons from the Greybeards is not to be taken lightly. He mentioned that Talos was also called by the Greybeards, and that he took a pilgrimage to their monastic retreat high in the mountains. Perhaps by following this path, I will gain some insight into Talos' eventual fate. However, there is also the matter of the sword and the Redguard woman to consider. I think I will stop by the stables before I leave. If I have enough coin to buy a horse, I will do so, and then I will ride out to go track down the thieves that have stolen this sword. If not, I will hire a carriage to take me to the closest village to the Greybeards' monastery.

As a reward for defending Whiterun from the dragon's attack, Jarl Balgruuf named me Thane of Whiterun. He also assigned a woman named Lydia as my housecarl. I am grateful for the gesture, but I would rather not have a heavily-armored soldier tromping around behind me as I make my way through the wilds. Mistcloak warriors thrive on secrecy, guile, and striking without being seen. But make no mistake, we are not assassins. Murder of innocents is strictly forbidden by the Mistcloak Code. We kill beasts for meat, hide and bone, we kill lawbreakers and monsters when they provide too great a threat to innocents to be left alive, and we kill undead abominations in order to send their souls to the afterlife where they belong.


	5. Fifth Entry

(The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim and all characters and quests within that game belong to Bethesda Softworks. The Mistcloak Order is headcanon I invented in order to explain the existence of my "Mistcloak" custom class in TES IV: Oblivion.)

–

I went to the stables, but I did not have enough coin to buy a horse. So I set out on foot to retrieve the warrior's sword. I found the bandits' lair and made my way inside. It was not very heavily defended, although I had to drink a few of the healing potions I had brought with me from the supplies stored within Helgen Keep. I have few of those healing potions left, but I have yet to find a place where I can purchase more. It would be better if I could learn to brew them myself; knowledge of alchemy has always been a friend to the Mistcloaks, providing us with the benefits of healing and with poisons to paint the tips of our arrows. Since the majority of the Mistcloak Order is based in Valenwood, most of us must rely on imported ingredients and potions. Then again, the average Bosmer would likely accuse a Mistcloak of breaking the Green Pact anyway, if the average Bosmer knew of the Order's existence. The Mistcloaks were not founded to break the Green Pact, but to perfect it.

Getting back to the matter at hand, I found the sword, returned to Whiterun and delivered it to its owner. Between my reward for that and the coin I got by selling a few other trinkets I had picked up in my raid on the bandits' lair, I was able to buy a horse at last. Before I left, I spoke to a priestess at the Temple of Kynareth in Whiterun. She was lamenting the state of the Gildergreen, the dead tree in Whiterun's courtyard. I asked if there was anything I could do to provide assistance. She informed me that the sap of the ancient tree Eldergleam might revive its offspring, but that I will need a dagger called Nettlebane forged by some nature-sacrificing cult. Not the sort of people I would want to have dealings with, but I see no other option. Anyway, after leaving Whiterun I made my way around and up the mountain to the small village of Ivarstead in relative speed and comfort, although my horse had to undergo the frightening experience of outrunning wild beasts on several occasions. Still, we arrived in Ivarstead safely, and I am now writing this at the inn there. I've heard rumors of some local troubles, but right now, my main concern is getting to High Hrothgar. I imagine the Seven Thousand Steps will be an arduous climb judging by the name alone. Perhaps I should speak with some of the villagers before I make my way there, in order to find out what they know.


	6. Sixth Entry

(The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim and all characters and quests within that game belong to Bethesda Softworks. The Mistcloak Order is headcanon I invented in order to explain the existence of my "Mistcloak" custom class in TES IV: Oblivion.)

–

The journey up the Seven Thousand Steps is what it sounds like: a very long walk. I started out yesterday evening, and it is now around noon. Before departing from Ivarstead, I spoke to an old man who often travels up the mountain to leave supplies for the Greybeards in a chest near the entrance to High Hrothgar. Since I was going to High Hrothgar anyway, and the trip is not as easy on the old man's legs as it used to be, I offered to take the supplies there for him.

The climb itself started out simple enough, but the path grew more twisted and treacherous as I made my way higher up the mountain. I slew a large ratlike creature that the locals call a skeever, and a few wolves. I also encountered a couple of solitary pilgrims making their way along the steps, pausing at various carven signs along the way.

I fear that I inadvertently caused the death of one of these pilgrims. I passed her and spoke with her on my way up the steps as she was kneeling in front of one of the carven signs. Further up, the clouds of snow swirling in the air blinded me to the white hide of a frost troll until I was practically on top of the beast. I was trying to remain unseen, but I didn't even have time to line up a proper shot before the beast caught my scent and charged at me. I turned and ran, trying to find a reasonably defensible position where I could ready my sword and a basic fire spell. Destruction magic has never been a focus of the Mistcloaks' studies; even the greatest mages among us are masters of Illusion. Still, I know as well as any adventurer in Tamriel that there is only one thing to do when one encounters a troll: kill it with fire. However, as I was running from the troll, I encountered this pilgrim again on her way up the stairs. She helped me fight the beast, even though the battle cost her her life. It very nearly cost me mine as well - if the troll hadn't tripped over a rock and fallen, rendering itself a rather large target, it would have killed me before I had a chance to finish it off. The noble pilgrim who fell at my side carried a good-quality set of studded armor, as well as an enchanted amulet and ring with powers that I might find useful. I hope she does not mind if I wear them in her memory, but as a stranger in a strange land who entered Skyrim with only the rags on my back and no coin or weapons to my name, I have few options. Besides, wearing fur armor will keep others from viewing me with much less confusion and suspicion than they would if I still went around clad in the Imperial armor I took from Helgen Keep.

I also used the last of my healing potions while I was fighting that troll. When I finish my business with the Greybeards, I think I shall return to Whiterun to see if I can find a store that sells potions. While there, perhaps I shall see if I can learn more about the guild of fighters known as the Companions. I know their hall is located in Whiterun, and perhaps they have a bed to spare in exchange for the use of my skill with a bow. Since I am so far from home, I could use a place to rest that doesn't involve me paying for a room at an inn or relying on a friend's hospitality.

I should wrap up this journal entry - I have reached High Hrothgar and I have proven to the Greybeards that I am indeed Dragonborn, or 'Dovahkiin' as they say in the dragons' tongue. They have already helped me to strengthen Unrelenting Force, which is apparently the name for the shout that I learned the first word of in Bleak Falls Barrow. Now they expect me to go out to the courtyard for further training. I hope I find strength in the knowledge that I am walking the path of Tiber Septim, and that perhaps doing so will give me knowledge of what his true destiny was.


	7. Seventh Entry

(The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim and all characters and quests within that game belong to Bethesda Softworks. The Mistcloak Order is headcanon I invented in order to explain the existence of my "Mistcloak" custom class in TES IV: Oblivion.)

–

After completing the Greybeards' training, I now know two words of the shout called Unrelenting Force and one of Whirlwind Sprint. The latter will undoubtedly prove useful in traversing difficult terrain. I made my way back to Iverstead, and upon arriving there I encountered two men in robes and strange masks. I expect they were followers of some sort of cult. They tried to kill me, but obviously they failed. As soon as they showed hostility, some of the villagers of Iverstead took up arms against them, but as far as I can tell the two cultists were the only casualties of that little skirmish, thank Auri-El. I expect the confrontation will be the cause of much gossip around Iverstead for some time to come. I also spoke to the old man whom I had helped by carrying his delivery up the mountain, and he gave me some coin for my efforts.

My horse bolted when the cultists began summoning lightning, but I tracked her down and rode her back to Whiterun. There, I found the alchemist's shop and spent the coin I had earned from the old man to replenish my supply of healing potions. Once that was done, I made my way to Jorvaaskr (if that is even how it's spelled; Nord spelling and pronunciation is difficult to understand), hall of the Companions. The Companions trace their founding back to the first men who journeyed to Skyrim ages ago, which means they're mostly Nord warriors and shield-maidens, although there are one Imperial and one Dunmer among their number. However, some of the Nord companions tend to look at me out of the corner of their eyes and mutter something to the effect of "They'll let nearly anyone join the Companions these days." I understand that the men of Skyrim have suffered much because of the Thalmor and their machinations, as many have, and that the Nords and Dunmer have a long history of territory disputes, yet some of them seem too quick to judge all mer. I suppose it cannot be simply wished away - strife and discord have existed between the races of Tamriel since the Mythic Era, and old grudges die hard - but such things are an affront to Equality of the Soul.

The Companions leader, a warrior of many seasons by the name of Kodlak Whitemane (presumably called so because of his large beard) told one of the Companions to test my strength by sparring with me. This fellow, a man by the name of Vilkas, was reluctant to allow me into the ranks of the Companions. Still, on Kodlak's orders, he brought me out into the yard and challenged me to a round of one-on-one combat. Some of the other Companions were already out there, watching. Vilkas was stronger than I, but I was more agile. I managed to make enough of an impression on him that he was willing to treat me as his errand-girl, and he sent me to go get his sword sharpened.

I spent the rest of the morning running errands for the Companions. I saw the Skyforge, which according to the old smith who works it, produces the finest steel in Skyrim. Eorlund Greymane is an amiable fellow, and seemed much more willing to speak to me than many of the Companions themselves. Still, after the errands, I was shown to the quarters where the recruits sleep. I now have a place that is more or less my own to rest and store my belongings, at least until I can find more permanent lodgings. I have a feeling my mission will keep me in Skyrim for some time.

That evening, I received my first assignment from the Companions: to travel to a roadside cave in Whiterun hold and slay the vampires who had made the place their den of dark sorcery. Needless to say, I was willing to take the job. Even though they are giving me work, I am not yet considered a full-fledged member of the Companions. Anyway, I rode out to the cave, passing by some travelers on the road, as well as a few revelers out for a night of drinking and merrymaking. Upon reaching my destination, I made my way in unseen and slew one vampire along with her foul skeletal minions. I perched in the shadows and shot them one by one as they tried to seek me out, as every Mistcloak warrior is trained to do.

Making my way in further, I found that the cave in question was a crypt - a perfect place for the vampires to perform their evil rituals. I located their sleeping quarters and was discovered by the warlord who ruled over that small coven of undead. He put up quite a fight, but in the end I destroyed him. Then I looked around to see if the vampires had any treasures that remained undefiled enough for me to take. They had tables to perform alchemy and enchantments, along with several empty soul gems and a filled petty soul gem. (One of those empty soul gems was a dark soul gem, and it is fortunate that it had not yet been used to trap the essence of some poor mortal who should have been allowed to pass on. I took that one as well, not to sell it or use it, but to lock it away somewhere so that its foul purpose can never be fulfilled.) They also had some enchanted weapons and armor, which I destroyed on their altar of enchanting so that I could learn their secrets. With this arcane knowledge, I was able to fortify my bow with a Turn Undead enchantment. It is ironic that an ancient weapon taken off the finally-slain corpse of a draugr would cause its fellow abominations to flee in terror.

After I left the crypt cleansed of undead, a quick look at my map of Skyrim told me I was fairly close to the village of Rorikstead (spelling?), so I decided I would take a quick ride there, just to see a bit more of the countryside. While I was on the road, I saw an ethereal glow in the distance, heading towards me. As it drew closer I saw that it was a horse and rider, yet the rider was clearly missing something important, and by that I mean his head. It is a Mistcloak's duty to set free the undead and allow them to pass to the afterlife, be they skeletons, zombies, ghosts, vampires or some other foul monstrosity. However, I doubt my weapons of mere iron would have had any effect on the specter. In retrospect, it might have been amusing to follow the apparition to find out if the drunken revelers were still there by the roadside and how they would have reacted to seeing it gallop past.

However, I continued on my way to Rorikstead, and when I arrived I was approached by a courier from the Jarl of Falkreath. He said this Jarl had heard of my activities in Skyrim and requested that I speak to him. While I suppose it is not wise to keep a Jarl waiting, I still had to return to Whiterun and deliver my report of the vampires' demise to the Companions. Even so, I spent a few hours of the night at the inn in Rorikstead. The innkeeper's son longed to leave his home village and become an adventurer, but his father did not wish it. A wandering adventurer's life is fraught with danger, and I can understand the innkeeper's desire to keep his son safe. However, it is the nature of youth to seek out what is beyond the places one spent one's childhood. I am still considered young in the years of my people, and this quest for knowledge has taken me far from my own home. However, I do not wish that this man should die on his travels, so I gave his father some coin to purchase armor for the son.

Upon taking my leave of the inn, I noticed an unusually large number of guards patrolling the village. One of the guards mentioned to me that there had been vampire attacks on the town lately. Sure enough, a vampire warlord and two of his slaves ran into the village, weapons drawn, thirsting for blood. One of the guards and I put down the servant of evil, while others took care of his thralls, but it would seem that the threat of vampires has not ended with the one lair I destroyed.

I returned to Whiterun and informed the Companions that I had completed the task they set before me. Then I went to the alchemist's shop and replenished my supply of healing potions yet again. (My supply of coin, however, is running low.) Then I went back to Jorvaaskr. I am now writing this from my quarters there. Once I am done, the Companions have one more test for me to accomplish before they admit me fully into their ranks.


	8. Eighth Entry

(The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim and all characters and quests within that game belong to Bethesda Softworks. The Mistcloak Order is headcanon I invented in order to explain the existence of my "Mistcloak" custom class in TES IV: Oblivion.)

–

As I was on my way to begin my final trial, I encountered another of the Companions: a woman named Njada Stonearm. She was unpleasant to speak to, to say the least. She insulted me several times during our conversation. I killed a dragon and was named Thane of Whiterun, yet I still have to put up with abuse from the Nords. I hope I do not have to interact with Njada very often.

My final trial to join the Companions seemed simple enough: I was to journey to a place called Dustman's Cairn to retrieve a fragment of some legendary weapon that the Companions' founder once wielded. One of the Companions (Farkas by name, brother of Vilkas) was to accompany me on the trip, although he seemed to be none too pleased with it. Neither was I, considering that the presence of a heavily armored barbarian galumphing about behind me was likely to attract every single undead abomination in the cairn. Still, I had to go through with it if I was going to be considered more than just an initiate and a burden to the Companions.

Farkas tried to prove that his strength and endurance were superior to mine by challenging me to a race from Jorrvaskr (I finally got the spelling right!) to the entrance to Dustman's Cairn. I ran as far as the stables, then got on my horse and shouted back to him that I wouldn't be impressed unless he could outrun the horse. I know being cheeky to my observer was probably not the best way to start my trial, but I am growing tired of being dismissed and insulted by my new brothers and sisters in arms.

On the road not far from Whiterun, I was assailed by an armed Argonian woman. At first I thought she was a bandit and tried to ride past her, but then I realized that if Farkas was on the road behind me, a desperate bandit might try to attack him. I dismounted from my horse and slew the Argonian, but as I searched her corpse I found a scrap of parchment - orders from the Dark Brotherhood claiming that someone wanted me dead badly enough to perform the evil ritual and contract a Brotherhood assassin.

I made it to Dustman's Cairn without further incident and waited for Farkas to catch up. He accused me of cheating at the race, but he had found the assassin's body in the middle of the road and he seemed slightly impressed that I had taken care of the problem. However, he assumed that the Argonian was a mere bandit; he didn't think me strong enough to take on a Dark Brotherhood assassin on my own, never mind important enough to be worthy of their attention.

Once we entered the cairn, it became evident right away that someone else had been here before us. After sending a few draugr to the afterlife where they belong, we came across a large circular chamber. The passage forward was barred by an iron gate. Upon investigating a small side room, I found a lever which I thought would raise the gate. It did so, but in the process it dropped another gate in front of the room where I was. Acting as if it was somehow inevitable that I would get myself trapped, Farkas reluctantly offered to find a way to open the gate that held me. Before he could do anything, Farkas was surrounded by armed warriors intent on taking his life! I tried to pull the lever that had gotten me trapped again, but it was stuck tight. Suddenly, as I watched through the bars, Farkas took on the form of a ferocious wolf! With lycanthropic strength he tore down the warriors, then he ran off and found a lever to open the gate that held me back. When he returned, he appeared human again. I asked him about what had happened, and it turns out that the entire Circle of the Companions are werewolves. The warriors who attacked us are a band of werewolf hunters called the Silver Hand, enemies of the Circle for obvious reasons. I picked up a few of the dead Silver Hand warriors' silver swords; they are not quite as good as my own refined iron sword, but they look like they will sell for a pretty piece of coin.

We made our way through the rest of Dustman's Cairn, finishing off more draugr and Silver Hand warriors, as well as a few skeevers, along the way. I found some sort of enchanted amulet in a locked chest, and I might add that the lock was quite difficult to pick. This amulet - a round pendant with an intricate design and a pale blue stone at the center - must be valuable if it was kept so securely locked. I shall have to find some scholar or priest who knows what it signifies. Continuing on, we came across a nest of spiders, and as we made our way through the web-strung walls, a giant frostbite spider pounced on Farkas. He was trying not to show it, but I believe he was injured as he fended off the Silver Hand ambush, and the oversized arachnid must have caught scent of his blood. If I had not stuck my sword into its thorax, it is likely that Farkas would not have survived. That must have convinced him to admit I have some skill with a blade.

In the cairn's final chamber, I found the weapon fragment we were searching for on a pedestal with several soul gems (which I took with me, as they will undoubtedly prove useful). Behind the pedestal was a wall with draconic script like the one in Bleak Falls Barrow. I learned another word of a dragon shout there, but until I find and slay another dragon, I will be unable to use it. After I removed the weapon fragment on its pedestal, every tomb in the chamber opened and Farkas and I were attacked by wave after wave of draugr abominations. After fending off the draugr, we found a secret passage out of the cairn. When Farkas and I returned to the surface, the stars looking down upon us saw not a seasoned warrior chafing at the task of observing a new recruit - they saw two friends just returned from battle. It is strange how blood, sweat and steel can teach you to rely on those who fight at your side.

On our way back to Whiterun, Farkas and I encountered a band of vampires by the side of the road. They had taken a couple of innocents prisoner and were about to torture them, or worse. The vampires slaughtered their prisoners when we approached rather than let those poor souls have a chance at freedom. Farkas and I brought vengeance upon the vampires and left their corpses lying in the dust.

Word of my previous fights against those bloodsucking fiends must have gotten around, because the moment I entered Whiterun, I was approached by a heavily-armed Orc. He told me that a group of vampire hunters called the Dawnguard have established themselves in Skyrim and are now recruiting. I expressed interest in joining their ranks, and the Orc told me where they had their main base.

After the Orc left, I continued on to Jorrvaskr. The rest of the members were assembled in the outside courtyard - if it can be called a courtyard; it is more of a back porch and training area combined. They must take the initiation of a new member seriously if they are willing to get up in the middle of the night for it. Anyhow, I stood before the Circle, Farkas vouched for my skill in battle, and Kodlak Whitemane named me a member of the Companions. After this ceremony, I spoke to Kodlak about the Circle being werewolves. Apparently I was not supposed to learn this secret yet, but under the circumstances Farkas had little choice but to reveal it. Kodlak is clearly a seasoned warrior, getting on in years, and he confided in me that when he passes he wishes to go to Sovngarde, the afterlife of the Nords, rather than to the realm of Hircine. I understand his concern. Among the Mistcloaks, Hircine is considered one of the four permissible Daedric Princes to have dealings with, although among those four, he and Nocturnal are considered the most dangerous. (The other two of the four are Azura and Meridia; it is forbidden to willingly engage in dealings with the remaining twelve Daedric Princes.) Daedra worship is generally frowned upon by the Mistcloak Order, although seeking the favors of the four is tolerated. Some of our scholars attribute this to Ayleid influence in the first days of our founding.

I have set many secrets of the Mistcloaks down in these pages, and now I have begun to write the secrets of the Companions. I must find some way to ensure that these secrets remain safe. Illusion magic and Enchantment have always been important tools of the Mistcloak Order; perhaps, with further study of those disciplines, I will be able to place an enchantment on this journal to disguise it. The only place in Skyrim where the study of magic still continues is the College of Winterhold - I will need to go there. However, now that I can look on Jorrvaskr as the closest thing I have to a home in Skyrim, my mission for the Greybeards takes priority. I must retrieve the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller.


	9. Ninth Entry

(The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim and all characters and quests within that game belong to Bethesda Softworks. The Mistcloak Order is headcanon I invented in order to explain the existence of my "Mistcloak" custom class in TES IV: Oblivion.)

–

I have been a bit sidetracked of late. Before heading off to find the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller, I stopped by the Drunken Huntsman. The storekeeper - a fellow Bosmer with an amiable personality - had a strong Orcish bow enchanted with a Turn Undead spell available for sale. Buying it took more than all of the coin I had; I needed to sell the ancient bow I had picked up in Bleak Falls Barrow in order to afford this fine new one. I also stopped by the Skyforge and received a blade made of Skyforge steel from Eorlund Greymane. I remembered the message I had received from the Jarl of Falkreath, and I decided to pay him a visit since it's impolite to keep a Jarl waiting - or at least that was what I thought at the time. I rode south through Riverwood, and as I continued on my way I heard an unearthly roaring which sounded like it came from the sky, although I could not see the source. It might have been the black dragon, still haunting the skies around the ruins of Helgen. Speaking of which, I passed through the ruined town on my way to Falkreath and fought a gang of bandits who had made it their base of operations. I also encountered another Dark Brotherhood assassin on the road. Whatever he thought to gain by making a living out of murder, death is his only reward.

Upon reaching Falkreath, one of the city guards informed me that the blacksmith, Jod or Lod or something like that, was looking for a lost dog. However, it was the middle of the night - no time for chatting with the townsfolk. I went to the Jarl's longhouse, the entirety of which probably could have fit inside the main hall of Dragonsreach in Whiterun, and waited for the Jarl to commence holding court in the morning. As of right now, I doubt it was worth the wait. Or the trip, for that matter. Just from one conversation, I could tell that Jarl Siddgeir is an arrogant, irresponsible young upstart, unfit for leadership and generally a pain in the rump. Apparently he had a few dealings with bandits in the past, and the bandit gang had outgrown their usefulness, so he wanted me to clean up his problem for him. I agreed to do it, but that does not mean I will do it right away. Forget what I said about it being rude to keep a Jarl waiting. This particular Jarl deserves to be kept waiting. He also deserves a swift kick in the seat of his trousers.

I spoke to this Lod fellow and offered to recapture his dog, and he accepted my offer and gave me some meat to use as bait. On my way out, I took a quick walk around town and spoke to an old warrior. He had just given a deceased friend of his a burial by fire, and he asked me to take the ashes to the Priest of Arkay. The priest's name is Runil; he is a former Battlemage and one of the few Altmer I have seen here who wasn't involved with the Thalmor. He is also one of the few mer I have seen here who is trusted by the locals. It is good to see that at least some of us are welcome in Skyrim. He asked me to find an old journal of his that he had lost in a cave somewhere.

Anyhow, I went to the road outside of Falkreath, and sure enough, a dog came running up. I thought it would be a simple task to lead it back to town, but any vestige of simplicity disappeared the moment the dog spoke. As it turns out, I had just summoned Barbas, canine companion to the Daedric Prince Clavicus Vile. Apparently dog and master had a bit of a falling-out, and Barbas wanted me to return him to his master. Dealings with forbidden Daedra are something I would rather avoid, but sometimes you don't know what you're getting into until you're already in it over your head. This was one of those times.

I followed Barbas to the shrine, in a vampire-filled cave called Haemar's Shame. After slaying the vampires, I learned that the cave's inhabitants were Clavicus Vile's followers, hoping to receive a cure for their vampirism from their god. The Daedric Prince saw me slaying them as an effective cure. I suppose that is true, but if vampires wish to return to the natural cycle of life and death using a cure that does not involve being killed, they should at least get that chance. The Code of the Mistcloaks does not exclude the possibility of mercy for those who desire it. I get the sense that Clavicus Vile was simply trying to backstab his mortal followers for the sheer entertainment of it. Typical Daedra.

Of course, Clavicus Vile decided to be an even bigger pain in the rump than Jarl Siddgeir. He refused to take back his cur unless said cur and I were to travel together to fetch a weapon known as the Rueful Axe from a cavern called Rimerock Burrow, which happened to be all the way on the other side of Skyrim. However, until I obtained the axe and brought it back to Clavicus Vile, I would be stuck with a Daedric mutt following me about everywhere, barking constantly and drawing unwanted attention to my presence. So, I made my way back up north, through Riverwood and then Roriikstead. From there, I headed northwest, fighting off wild beasts and a gang of bandits who tried to exact a toll from me. My horse bolted during the bandit attack, so I had to travel the rest of the way on foot. I passed through the village of Dragon Bridge, aptly named for the carvings on the adjacent bridge. After Barbas and I were ambushed by a frostbite spider and successfully killed the thing, I asked the cur for a bit of additional information. According to his tale, a mage named Sebastian something-or-other had a daughter who became a werewolf. Sebastian what's-his-name prayed to Clavicus Vile for a cure. The Daedric Prince gave him an axe. I begin to notice a pattern in Vile's behavior.

As we continued on our way, I met a travelling bard by the road. He suggested that I go to the Bard's College in Solitude (I think that is where he said it was) to improve my way with words. For some Mistcloaks, a silver tongue can be a more important weapon than a bow or blade. We keep our Order hidden with some use of Illusion magic, but mainly with rumors, misinformation and fireside tales. Anyhow, Barbas and I fought a rather large saber cat along the road, as well as a witch and her pet Flame Atronach. Then some fugitive approached me and practically shoved an enchanted leather helm into my hands. A moment later, someone else stopped me and asked if I had seen a thief run past. I put two and two together and handed the leather helm to the pursuer. He was surprised that I had it and grateful to get it back, but he was still resolved to hunt the thief down.

At last we reached Rimerock Burrow. The entrance was guarded by a Flame Atronach, but I dealt with it quickly. Someone in mage robes - I assume it was Sebastian what's-his-name - was living in the cave. I would have liked to sneak by and take the axe without him knowing, but that mangy Oblivion-cursed mutt just wouldn't stop barking. The mage attacked me with no sign of yielding, and I was forced to kill him. Then I took the axe from the table (perhaps an altar?) that it lay on.

I returned to the bandit camp, retrieved my horse, and made my way back to Clavicus Vile's shrine. The Daedric Prince offered to let me keep the axe if I killed Barbas with it. Either way would have gotten the dog out of my hair, but I have no use for a battleaxe and I was through playing along with the Daedric Prince's whims. I demanded he take the axe and the mongrel. Barbas vanished and then reappeared in stone alongside the statue of Clavicus Vile. The axe disappeared as well, and in its place was the legendary Masque of Clavicus Vile. Ugly-looking thing; I have no doubt that the strong Daedric enchantments on it are the only aspect of it that make the wearer appear charming to others.

What I do have doubts about is my decision to spare Barbas and give the axe to Clavicus Vile. When dog and master were separated, the powers of both were diminished. Now that they are reunited, they have regained their full strength. Also, a weapon of powerful magic can and almost certainly will be used for dreadful purposes in the hands of a Daedra Lord. Still, I take some comfort in knowing that the Prince and the pup will continue to aggravate each other for all eternity.

I returned to Whiterun and am taking a brief rest in Jorrvaskr. On my way there I spoke to an inhabitant of Whiterun named Jon Battle-Born; he seems to think of himself as some sort of warrior-bard. I seem to be having quite a few encounters with bards as of late. Tomorrow I plan to sell some of the items I picked up in my recent travels across Skyrim, and then I will finally head out to find the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller. Unless I get waylaid by something else.


End file.
